The Promise of 3
by Marie Phantom
Summary: A story of love, justice, and the fight for freedom. Full summery inside
1. Prologue

**A/N This will be my first story posted on this site, so be easy on me. When I am at school it takes me quiet long to update, so expect huge bursts of updates, then long waiting periods.**

**Summery: It is just after V has broadcasted his news. He has taken Evey to the country. He has put her through her transformation early and she has stayed with him. There they meet someone who will change their lives forever.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own anything you recognise.**

When does a person become an idea? When does he start to think like an idea, live like an idea? When does he have the right to decide what happens to a country, and the fate of people?

When does a woman choose how she is to live? When is she allowed free thought and the freedom to say what she wants, and not what someone tells her? When does she become a person, and not a clone?

When does a girl have the ability to deify what people say? When does she have to right to stand against the system and speak about what she wants o speak about, and not what she is told to?

Many people do this throughout history, but they have not been named, and their alone. But there will be people who make history because they will do spectacular things to fight the system. And they will help a nation to become what it is.


	2. Charlotte

**A/N By the way, this is a mix of both book and film.**

**Chapter 1**

She stepped out of the building, the wind blowing her hair into her face as she looked over the courtyard. She then gave an irritable sigh and shoved the unwanted hair out of her face as she moved across, her arms heavy with the burden of the many books that she carried. She heard a voice call her name and turned around, to find her best friend running towards her, brandishing a newspaper. The girl quickly caught up with her and shoved the newspaper under her nose.

"Have you seen the news, Char? Have you _seen it_?"

"Now I have." Charlotte took the newspaper from her friend and sat down at a bench to read it, just as the bell for lunch rang. People rushed out of the classrooms and ran towards the door that led into the cafeteria, completely ignoring Charlotte and her best friend, Josephine Marot. Charlotte's eyes quickly scanned the newspaper and she smiled at the picture on the front. They couldn't hide it then. Even the great BTN couldn't hide a big announcement like that, and it was on national television as well. She had seen it, and, weeks later, they were still blasting it on the newspapers of Britten. She tucked the paper under her arm, and made her way to the door. She would study the paper later.

She sat on her bed, scissors in one hand and the newspaper spread out in front of her like a great map. She looked at the picture, and with one finger, traced the delicate marks of the face upon the thin paper. She wondered at how such a strong man may let such a thing happen. She was of course thinking about Adam Sutler, the High Chancellor or whatever he was called now. She took the scissors to the paper, and slowly snipped the paper, cutting out the article in question. She snipped away delicately, as though not to rip the paper. It was vitally important that she didn't do this, because she didn't want to rip anything in her little shrine. All around her head grinning masks glared down at her. Drawings of men with knives and conical hats grinned down at the girl, sending her little whispered messages of hope and freedom in a world where people were oppressed. Here, the girl was safe from all of the troubles of the world, and all of the things that had happened to bring such a world down. What had happened since the war? Had America really gone, and with it bad American accents, film and beef jerky? These were questions that adults should think about, not 14 year old school with physics exam homework to do and a maths paper late. But Charlotte thought about them, and wondered at how such a thing could ever have happened to this world. They were slowly killing themselves, and they were doing nothing to stop it. For 14 years she had lived in terror of thinking that any day Japan would drop the bomb and blow Britten into of the sky. But they didn't, and now America was gone. She had lived in world of fear, and she still did. But now, in London, someone was fighting back. A man in a Guy Fawkes mask, who had blown up the Old Bailey and had said that he did. And now he had given Britten a year in which to redeem itself. She would be there in London when Parliament was blown up, and she would cheer along with the rest as the stone and glass gave a sky a new look. She would be there.

She finished cutting out the clipping, and smiled down the man in the picture. She quickly got some blue-tack out of her draw and tacked dup the clipping on her wall, sitting back and admiring it for a second. Then she realised that she had homework to do and quickly pulled out her files, opening them at the right page, got out a pencil and started to write the answers to the questions. She hoped that someone would get her out of this. She didn't mind the work, in fact it was really easy, but she just wasn't in the mood for working. She just wanted to talk with someone.

"Hello!" Two voices sounded off in the still air of the dormitory. God had obviously heard her prayer. Charlotte looked up and smiled as the heads of her best friends, Jo and Zanthe Catesby popped round the door. She quickly moved all of her books off of her bed and they sat down, amidst the glare of all of the clippings.

"How are you?" asked the cheery voice of Zanthe, or Zany as she was known.

"Fine. Why do you ask?" Charlotte got up from the bed and moved to her bookshelf, putting her books away, and keeping an ear out as they talked behind her back. She had always had a keen sense of hearing, sharpened from ears of eavesdropping at the door whilst her parents talked.

"Oh, nothing. Just that you seemed a bit down today." Jo supplied in a tone that made Charlotte turn around and stare at her.

"Jo, it the 2nd of December. Of course I will be a bit down." Charlotte said it more sharply than she intended it to sound, but it still made her sad.

"Oh, right. Sorry." Jo ducked her head in shame. Second of the twelfth. The day they day that the men came with the guns and black bags and took her parents away to God only knows where. It was hurtful to know that on this day, she had lost her only link to true happiness because of the governments rule. It stung.

"It's Science now. Are you going to come?" asked Zanthe.

"In a minute. I just want some time to think."

"O.K then." Jo and Zanthe left the room and Charlotte sat down heavily on the bed. She took out her letter to her uncle and read it again, before slowly screwing it up. She couldn't write to him again. She had written too many times, and he still wasn't going to come. He had an important case to work on, and he obviously didn't want to neglect that. Even so, he could have taken the time to come down here. But no, he didn't want to. And so she was stuck here. Cut off from the outside world with only newspaper clippings to keep her amused. It was a slightly dull life, she had to admit. With her GCSE's coming up and coursework to keep her happy, it never ceased to amaze her that she had the guts to even take out a little piece of paper, and write down a letter for help. She would wait, for him to come, and then she would make him pay. It would help her to be strong, but there was only a certain amount of time before a person could be driven completely mad by boredom. Maybe that would be what she would be famous for. Being the first person to be driven mad by doing nothing. She was already depressed, how much longer would it take for her to go mad? Oh she would wait. It couldn't be long.

She took her books down from the locker in her room and ran down the stairs, nearly knocking into a teacher as she ran to the science block. Even the teacher knew that she had a reason to be late on this day. They weren't stupid. Mind you, it was their job not to be stupid, but still you had to grant them that they had a little bit of sympathy for this grieving girl. She made a quick detour to the toilets. She pulled out a little bottle of water that she always carried around with her. Charlotte tilted her head back and sprayed the water into her eyes. It only took a few seconds for her eyes to become red and puffy, so it looked like she had been crying recently. It was a trick that she had often used to fake lateness to a lesson, and it usually worked. But she had a felling that today was no ordinary day that it was going to be a day that would change her life. She had often had the slightly physic abilities. She had dreamt of her parent's arrest, but they didn't believe her when she told them. And when she was younger she had dreamt of a terrible war, that would change the world forever.

She hurried to the science block, and as she burst through the door, she gabbled "I'm so sorry sir, I was upstairs cry-." She never got to finish her sentence. Standing in the middle of the room, guns pointing to her chest were five men, dressed in black. In the middle of this throng stood a tall, slightly balding man, with his little pistol aimed at her head. She swallowed, and looked behind these men. Her class and the teacher were grouped at the back of the classroom wide eyes terrified.

"Good day, Miss Finch." said the tall man smoothly. Charlotte gulped, and moved slowly back to the door. "Oh, I wouldn't try that, if I were you." he said, as she moved. She stopped, and dropped her books onto the ground.

"I've heard that you have taken quite a fancy to what has been happening in London recently." he continued in that horribly smooth voice. She glanced at her friends behind the men. They looked at her with eyes full of tears. She looked down and sniffed. "Oh yes, your charming little friends have told me quite a bit about your little room upstairs. All of those newspaper clippings. Your room looks like a printing office, so I'm told."

She didn't say anything, only looked at the ground, her heart pounding like a drum. Her friends had betrayed her, sold her out. But she didn't hate them. They were afraid. They had to do something, and so they told him.

"Are you going to kill me?" she asked in a pathetically small voice.

"Kill you? Lord no!" the tall man laughed. He stood there laughing for some time, before wiping his eyes and looking at her. "No, we're not going to kill you. Not yet anyway." he added nastily. "No we're going to have some fun with you. Now, let us review the facts." He courteously waved to a chair, and two of the Fingermen grabbed her arms and moved her towards it. They plonked her down and stood by her side.

"You were born in 2006, in a small hospital just outside Edinburgh," he started, "Your father was Douglas Michel Finch and your mother was Serena Jane Finch, nee Bower-Green. You moved down to London to stay with your uncle in 2010, where your younger brother Patrick was born. But he died soon after he was born, because of the virus that was in the Three Waters plant. You were dangerously ill, and when you recovered you were moved to North Yorkshire. But not before you parents made friends with another family, the Hammonds. They had meetings to discuss the overthrow of the government. You used to play with their little girl, Evey. But when you moved you saw no more of them. You went to a primary school up in Thirsk and did extremely well, skipping a year. You were then submitted to a boarding school when you were 8 because your parents were moving around to much. They wouldn't tell you why. In 2018 men came to your parents place and took them away. You hid in the water closet. When the men had gone you ran all of the way to this place, where you have been since then. You have cut off all communications of the outside world, and you have become depressed. You see a physiatrist once a week. You write often to your uncle, Eric Finch, to come and take you back to London. He has never replied to your letters, because he has never got them." At this her reached inside his coat and pulled out a thick wedge of letters, waving them in her face as she cried.

"Take her." The men grabbed her arms and dragged her out of the classroom. Dimly she heard the fire-alarm go off. They took her to a room, which she hadn't seen before.

"Take off your clothes." said a voice behind the black metal mask.

"What!" she said, clutching to the itchy jumper as though it were a life support.

"Take them off, or we will take them off for you." She slowly removed her clothing, folding it neatly as placing it on the white, sterile floor. At last she stood in just her underwear. "All of it."

"You must be joking." she said coldly. The men looked at each other, then strode foreword and forcibly ripped them off whilst she shrieked. Very soon she stood naked in front of then, face burning in shame.

"Get into this." A man shoved a bag to her. She cautiously took it and looked in. She put her hand in and took out an orange, sleeveless tunic, dirty and mud streaked. She didn't want to put it and, but decided that it was clothing, however filthy, and it would cover everything. She put it on.

Suddenly the men lurched foreword and took her forcibly by the hair. She screamed, but they had tied a white blindfold around her eyes, obscuring her vision. She was terrified.

"Move it, lassie." said one of the men, pushing hard into her back. She stumbled foreword, her hands blindly searching for a handhold. They grabbed her hair, and yanked it around a corner, scraping her in the process. She cried out, but a quick punch in the mouth put paid to that. So on and on she went, blind as a bat, with only her hands and the men to guide her.

Presently she heard voices, form a direction to her right. She knew they were going there, and so she moved to the left, trying to get away. The men grabbed her arm, and pulled her in the direction of the voices. She tumbled, but was prevented from falling by the hand on her arm. They opened a door, and suddenly the voices were so much louder. She moved towards the voices, and they sat her down on a chair. They tied her hands behind her back, and tied her feet so that they also couldn't move. Suddenly the voices stopped.

"Good day, people of Queen Victoria's school!" said the voice. She moved her head towards the sound. "I am Peter Creedy, head of the Finger at London. As you know, this girl that is sitting in front of you is a traitor, a girl who is an enemy of the state. Today, we give you special permission to see what happens to people who don't to as they are told to do."

The blindfold was gone. She opened her eyes slowly; afraid to see what she knew was there.

Packed into the Great Hall was the whole school. From the people in reception, to the seniors. 16 year-olds mingled with the 5 year-olds. But they all had one thing in common. They all wore identical faces of horror and disgust. They saw her, or rather, what she had been reduced to, and they didn't like it at all. It was terrible. She felt the tears slowly leak their way out of her eyes.

"Mr Phillips, if you please." said Mr Creedy. The man behind her suddenly grabbed her hair, yanking it back. She cried out, but suddenly a noise stopped her. The sound of buzzing. 'Oh, God, no. They don't need to do this!' she thought, as the feel of electric on her skull intensified and the razor made it way slowly up her head, shaving off her long brown hair. She was crying now, and she didn't bother to hide it. There were people crying in the 'audience' as well. But the people in black were laughing at her. She was scared, and she was sick of it. But she couldn't help it. She wanted to be brave, but it had crumbled away in an instant.

It seemed like an eternity, but it must have only been a few minutes. The razor stopped, and then Mr Creedy was speaking again. She didn't listen. She didn't want to. They took her away, form the crowd who was yelling. They put the blindfold on and put her in a van. They drove her away from all that she had. But she was numb. She was dying inside. She would never be the same again.


	3. The House on the Hill

**A/N Sorry for the long updates. I am not a fast typer. Here are our favourite known characters.**

Chapter 2

_5 months later_

He hummed a tune as he cracked an egg onto a slice of toast. He had taken off his gloves that morning, because it was such a nice day that he decided that there was no risk. And anyway, she had seen them. Of course, he kept the mask on, and the wig, because despite the trust between them, he still felt uncomfortable without them. She hadn't seen his face, and he intended to keep it that way.

Soon he heard the foot steps on the stairs as she came down. V placed the slice of toast on the table, along with a glace of apple juice and some flowers in a vase. He had a copy of today's newspaper with him and he sat down just as she entered the room, scratching her head. He had eaten beforehand, and so she ate alone, but with V to accompany her at the table.

"Good morning Evey." he said brightly.

"Morning V." she grumbled as she sat down heavily at the table and bit into her toast. Evey was never a morning person, and so V knew better than to make a decent conversation with her in the mornings. He always waited until she had tidied herself up a bit and put on a bit of make up before he made conversation. This time, however, she started off the speaking.

"What's in the newspaper?" she asked.

"Oh, nothing much. Only a bit on how the food rationing might increase, and that they seemed to have found a new lead into finally capturing me." V said airily.

"Oh, really? What is the lead?" she asked, taking a swig of apple juice.

"They have found a glove. They think that they might be able to trace the finger prints to find out which citizen is causing all of the havoc in the city." They both snorted at this idea. In the fire at Larkhill, V had gone through an intensely hot fire which had not only burnt his skin, hair, eyelashes and eyebrows; he had also had to knock down a wall to get out. That wall had been on fire, and so, as a result of that, V had no finger prints. The tips of his fingers had burnt, leaving angry red scarring, but no identification marks of any kind.

"That will be fruitless." said Evey, getting up and taking her plate to the sink to be washed. She looked out of the window and saw the field that was just in front of the house. She smiled. V had chosen a perfect location for her holiday.

After coming out of the prison that V had put her in, he had taken her up to the roof. There she had cried away all of her fears. After about half an hour up there, she had turned around to find V still standing there, waiting for her. She had walked towards him, and he had opened his arms for her, and she had gratefully accepted them. They had both made their way down to the Shadow Gallery. They had spent the night together, using the cover of darkness to cloak their bodies. He had taken of his mask, just for that night. And she had kissed his lips, and had shared him. They had woken up in the morning, but still she did not see his face. She wouldn't, she knew that. He had to retain some dignity, and this was it. But then, Evey didn't want to see his face. The mask was his face, and so she wanted that to be it.

After that night she had stayed with him in the Shadow Gallery. She didn't want to leave. This was her home now, and she wanted that to be it. But she needed air, and so one day she had told V that she wanted to go to the country for a while. He had agreed, and so she had hijacked a car, filled it up with everything that they needed, drove it up to Victoria Station, V had climbed into the front, and they had driven away. Away to a place that was quiet, and alone, so they could be together.

"Evey?" said V from behind her.

"Nothing V. Just thinking." she said with a smile. He came up and stood behind her, putting his hand on her shoulder and turning her towards him. He reached out with his other had and stroked her head. The hair still hadn't grown back, and she was still as bald as an egg. She didn't mind the look. In fact she quite liked it. It made her look tough, and somehow gave her the inner strength that she needed.

"How are you this morning?" he asked.

"Fine. A bit sick but that will soon clear up." she with a smile. She could tell that he was smiling too. He reached out a hand and stroked her belly in a loving way. As though to touch the child within it. His child.

EV

Life had suddenly become so much complicated since that day, when she had come out of the prison to find V standing in the corridor. It had shocked her, and she new that, in the deepest part of her, she would never forgive him for what he had put her through. She knew that what he had done to her was only half as bad as what had happened to him. She had felt the scars caused by the fire and his imprisonment at Larkhill. They had discussed it, what had happened. She didn't feel sympathy for him, nor pity. He didn't want that, and so Evey wouldn't give it to him. It was anger that she felt, anger towards the people, anger to the doctors that had submitted V to this torture. And this anger gave her new strength. She could finally see why he did the things that he did, why he chose to peruse his vendetta. And she still loved him.

It was love now that she felt for him, not friendship. She had loved him since the beginning, and she would love him to the end. And now she was carrying a witness to that love. A child. V had been shocked, and needless to say, angry when he had found out that she was pregnant. She had been shocked herself. Evey had tried to hide it from him, but the combination of morning sickness, the new diet and the pregnancy tests that he had found in the draw had done it for him. She remembered the confrontation, V shouting at her that it was careless, and that how was he going to support a child? She had cried, and said that she would go if he didn't want her there. This was the only time when she remembered hi showing any emotion like anger. Sympathy; yes. Joy; yes. Sadness; sometimes. But he had finally come round to the idea, and had embraced it, saying that they would get through it. He had come to love the child, even though it was barley a month old, no bigger than a tadpole.

She smiled at this, and looked over at the seat next to her. Even though it was a beautiful spring day, they barley went out. It was a fear long bred into her, that if they went out of their sanctuary, they would be discovered, and so their life would end. At the moment, both of them were sitting on a sofa, watching _The Count of Monte Cristo_ for what must have been the hundredth time. When V had found the house that they were staying in, the electricity was working, but all of the bulbs had gone. The heating wasn't working, and the water that had come out of the taps was a disgusting brown colour. But V, who had built the Shadow Gallery by hand, had fixed everything, sending Evey down to the village to get the necessary equipment. And so they spent the days in a peaceful bliss, doing everything and nothing.

Suddenly out of the window came the sound of hooves. V looked up sharply, and he grabbed Evey's hand. He switched of the television, and ran to the stairs, Evey clutching tightly to his hand. They raced up the stairs, and went to the room that served as their bedroom. Anxiously Evey peered out of the window, terrified that it would be men in black with guns. But to her relief, it was only a straggle of riders, chatting pleasantly to each other.

"Phew! That was too close." she said as she crawled to where V was, knives at the ready. "It was only the riders from the school." They had discovered, on the second day of them being at the house that they were very near a school. This school seemed to be one of the only boarding schools left in the country, and so each day, around this time, riders came up the path that led past their house to go the school, back to the stables. She laid a hand on V's arm, and he put the knives down.

Evey crawled to the window again, and peered out to watch the riders disappear. Snatches of their conversation drifted to her on the breeze.

"…5 months go…telephone box…looks like a cell…wonder what they are doi…"

Evey frowned, and looked at V. He had put the knives away and was kneeling beside her, looking out of the window. The mask covered his face, but she could almost _hear_ the frown that no doubt creased his face.

"What do you think it is?" she asked.

"I don't know," V mused "But from what I gathered, men are coming into the school and are building some sort of holding room in a telephone box, and that someone has been missing for 5 months." He sat down, and Evey sat down next to him, moving closer to him and holding his hand.

"What are you thinking?" she asked after 5 minutes in silence.

"I don't know, sweet Evey, I just don't know."

EV

_2 weeks later_

"V, do we need this?" called Evey from up stairs. V looked up from where he was, packing the television into Styrofoam. Evey came from the stairs, holding a large board covered in holes. V had found it a week ago and had been practising his knife throws, using the board as a target.

"No, leave it Evey." he replied, turning back to the television. They had decided that it was time to go back to London. Evey had managed to recover well, having no more nightmares about the prison, and both would go back, content. He was just about finish the packing when something distracted him. A noise. He dismissed it, thinking that it was just a car coming to the school, when something else grabbed his attention. It was the noise of a siren, wailing in the still air.

"V?" asked Evey, nervously. 'No doubt she has images of the men with black bags' thought V as he went to the window and peered put, looking at the front of the school.

Several police cars were screeching to a halt at the front, whilst a crowd of people were gathering at the steps that led up to the large oak doors. Men had got out of the cars, and were shoving back the crowd, trying to dispel the panic that was racing through the student like quicksilver.

V raced out into the porch, grabbing his knives, cloak and hat before racing outside, Evey hot on his heals, despite being pregnant, she was still able to run, and the jeans were extra stretchy, give her the movement that she needed to keep up. They found a big enough tree, and hid behind it. They were close enough to get a good view of the school, but far enough away to get a good head start if they were seen. V enfolded Evey into his cloak, and they both peered out of the tree. V saw it first.

A large black van was making its way up the drive, crawling to the school. V felt a sense of dread settle in his stomach. He remembered the van that had taken him. He was terrified, and held Evey closer, as if she was a shield. Evey felt this, and knew that this is what had happened to him. A van, that had taken his life away, was coming to collect another life. But then Evey not noticed something odd.

"V look!" she said, pointing into the crowd. Whilst the soldiers were keeping the crowd back, they weren't taking anyone from the crowd.

"Then that must mean…" V said slowly. Suddenly everything that they had heard made sense. The cell, the crowd, the van.

"There bringing someone back!" Evey gasped. And it was true. The men were holding back the crowd, which was surging forward. The crowd, teachers and children alike, were shouting out at the men. Abuse and insults were flying through the air like rockets. It was chaos. And the black van was there.

The doors flew open, and Peter Creedy stepped out.

"Good morning, all!" he yelled above the noise of the crowd. The people quietened, so as to listen to what he had to say.

"Does anyone remember what happened 5 months ago?" Without waiting for an answer, he carried on. "5 months ago, me and my men came and took a girl away from your school. She was under suspicion of fraternizing with 'Codename-V'. We still have not found the truth, but rest assured we will. If she has not told us anything after a week, you will all be privileged to see her be shot.

"And now," he continued, "I give to you, Charlotte Finch!" He started clapping, and all at once the guards broke into applause. The back doors of the van opened, and at once V and Evey, who were already sickened, gasped.

Stumbling out of the door was a girl of no more than 15. She was thin. Very thin. In fact, she was emaciated. She had red weals and bruises covering every inch of her body. Her head has been shaved, and she had a blindfold on. She was dressed in a horrible orange, sleeveless tunic. It was evident that she had not washed for ages. And it also obvious that she was terrified.

She fell to her knees on the hard pavement, and the men laughed. Fresh tears leaked out and dirtied the cloth over her eyes. She turned her blind head to the school and then to the hills. For an instant, her eyes met V's eyes, through the mask. V had a vision of large, florescent green eyes, brimming with tears. She had a vision of blue eyes, nearly black, fringed with burnt skin. Then she was led inside, and the moment was lost. It was gone, but V was shocked.

"Children. It was a child." whispered Evey. She clung to V. V turned to her and held her face in his hand. They ran to the house and shut the door. Evey slid down the door, whilst V undid his cloak with unsteady fingers. His hat had been discarded on a chair.

"How could they do that?" Evey asked to no one in particular. She was huddled up, her arms around her knees. V sat down next to her and gathered her up, stroking her head. He was too shaken for words. The girl had seen his face, he knew it. She needed help.

"Evey… You do realise that we can't go yet." Evey turned to him and looked at him with eyes that had seen too much for her life.

"I know V." she said.

"We have to help her. She has gone through to much. And she will be shot. A life, wasted because of them." V stood up and took up Evey. They made their way to the kitchen. Around them were the bags that were to go into the car. That was then. It was the girl that had stopped them going home. She needed them. She was just a child.

V and Evey had been through a lot together. He had rescued her from rape. She had rescued him from being caught at the television station. And they had rescued each other when he had tortured her. But they would now have to rescue a girl from certain death. And it was going to be the thing that would make them know that they were meant for each other.


	4. Imprisonment

**A/N Sorry for taking so long to update, I had important things to do. But here it is. This might be the last update in a while, so bear with me.**

**Disclaimer: You know it.**

Chapter 3

Charlotte gasped as she hit the wall. They had taken the blindfold from her, but her eyes still had not adjusted to the darkness, and so she had been unable to stop herself. As a result of that, she had run headfirst into the brick wall at the opposite side of her cell, and was at this moment kneeling on the floor clutching her heads and moaning in pain. It hurt. A lot.

"Get up you worthless piece of junk. C'mon!" Wilkinson, the guard that he been assigned to her, aimed a well placed kick. She grunted, and curled herself into a ball. She didn't want to move. She wanted to lie there, and slip into oblivion. But evidently this was not going to happen. Rough hands grabbed her arms, and she was hauled into a sitting position. She groaned and looked into the eyes of her tormenter.

"Piss off." she whispered and ducked as he tried to punch her. But he had obviously taken her words to heart. Grunting like a pig, he staggered off, and closed the door. She heard the bolts sliding themselves into place. Charlotte rolled herself into a ball and started to think about what had happened.

It had been a hellish 5 months. She had been beaten, drowned, hit, whipped, and had nearly died on many occasions. Starving as she was, dehydrated as she was, she could still think, and this had made her stay alive, keep on enduring her suffering. And now she thought about the eyes. Blue or black, she couldn't tell. It was difficult, but somehow the eyes kept her sane. She focused on those eyes now. They were beautiful.

A bell rang. This disturbed her. She knew that bell. She got up, wincing as she did so, and looked out of the window. She gasped.

Students were pouring out of the doors either side of the building, books in their arms. She knew this place. They had taken her back to her school. She started beating the window, calling for help. She knew she was in the old telephone booth. They had converted this into a cell.

Her constant beating attracted the attention of none other than Zanthe and Jo. They looked at her, and their faces turned pale as they saw the face of their best friend. They dropped their books and ran to the window. Charlotte pried the window open and reached out.

"Zanthe! Jo! Oh God, I've missed you guys so much." she cried, reaching out thin arms and grasping their hands. Tears flowed down all of their faces.

"What's happening to me? Do you know?" Charlotte asked urgently.

"No! Sorry." Zanthe said whilst Jo nodded in conformation. Charlotte thought hard. She had a week till she died. And all that would happen in that week would be more interrogations. But Creedy had mentioned something special to happen during this week. She hoped that it had nothing to do with the school, but she had a nagging feeling that it had. After all, they could have killed her behind the chemical sheds, but instead they had brought her to school.

Suddenly a shadow appeared behind her two friends. Charlotte gasped, but the shadow grabbed her friends by the arms and hauled them away.

"I suggest that you stay away from her," said the guard, "You could end up like her." Zanthe and Jo turned back and mouthed a 'goodbye' at Charlotte.

Charlotte slid down the wall. The brief feeling of happiness that had filled her body had been snuffed out, and she was feeling empty and cold. There were no radiators where she was, and so her cell was freezing. She curled herself into a tighter ball and tried to ignore the pangs of hunger that shot through her body. It had been several days since she had eaten, and her body was showing the effects of that. Her gums were starting to bleed, and she was several stone lighter than when she had gone into prison. At a pitiful 6 stone, she looked like a skeleton, but with skin and muscle. She had no hair to keep her warm, for all of the hair on her body had either been burnt, or waxed off. The constant exposure to heat had left her skin with a red look, and she had now no fingerprints, these had been burnt off her by the men, when they had been particularly drunk. The constant beatings had reopened old wounds, and so she was constantly bleeding. She had no hair on her head. It had kept growing back, but then it had been shaved off time and time again. Eyebrows gone, eyelashes plucked off, she looked a thoroughly miserable sight. It was only her lips and eyes that had not been changed.

When she was a little girl, her mother used to say that if anything was going to attract a man, it would be those eyes and lips. She had scoffed at this, and carried on playing with her Barbie's. But as she grew up, and boys had started noticing her, she had to admit that her mum may have been right. Her lips were full, and, in the days when she had had lipsalf, soft. But now they were slightly chapped. As access to any sort of lip moisturiser was impossible, she had used her tongue to soften them. This had done the job, but had left her lips slightly broken.

Her eyes were probably the best feature of her face. Large and green, they had attracted the attention of any man that cared to look. Before the prison, they had been a very dark green, almost brown. But now, since her exposure to drugs and the chemicals kept at the place, they had turned to a shocking light green. They were so light green, that they almost looked florescent.

A clanging interrupted her thoughts, and she looked up from her arms to find a tray being pushed through the door. It had nothing more than her rations of flour and water, but she fell on the food like a wolf. She ate with her hands, and when she could reach into the crevices of the bowl, used her tongue instead.

"Thank you." she said as she pushed the tray back. A grunt of acknowledgement, and the slit closed. Charlotte settled down on the hard floor, and shivered. Even though she knew that it was the middle of the day, she still wanted to sleep. She wanted to pass the hours of her freedom dreaming about the eyes. She lay down, and closed her eyes. And soon, Charlotte slipped into sleep.

EV

Year 4 was usually a very happy year. They had a wonderful teacher, they were all close friends, they had wonderful senior school friends, and the work was not very difficult. But right at this moment, they were not very happy. They had nasty black men with guns around the classroom, and they had to sit at separate tables. They were doing very hard work.

Phoebe looked at one of the men. He was tall, with a black helmet. A large gun was held rigidly in his hands. The man's head turned towards her and he gave her a nasty glare from his helmet. She quickly turned her head.

Suddenly there an explosive crackling, and a voice was heard from one of the men's walky-talkies. The man pulled it out, and spoke back into it. Then he turned his head, and grinned evilly and the year.

"Let's go and see a little show." he said. The men stood the year up and marched them into the Great Hall.

EV

Charlotte sat down in the rough chair, the wood hurting her bum. She was blindfolded, as always, but she could hear the tell tale sounds of water. 'Oh, God' she thought. Trial by water, it was one of their favourite tortures. But something was odd this time. As well as the sound of running water, there was the whisper of voices. Anxious voices punctuated the gloom, and the pattering of small feet was heard. Slowly the blind fold was lifted from her face and she had a chance to look around.

Packed into every corner of the room were her school friends. They had mixed different groups, so that the year above her mingled with the year fours. She noticed that they had converted the Great Hall into a chamber, and so all of the children had an ariel view of what was going on. It made her feel sick to her stomach. But Charlotte's thoughts were distracted by the appearance of Creedy, coming from a side door and sitting down in front of her.

"Now, Miss Finch, I assume you know why you are here." he said in that smooth, slick voice. Charlotte nodded, and the crowd above her sifted and buzzed, and though it was a swarm of bees.

"Please, Mr Creedy, not in front of them." Charlotte pleaded, straining from her bonds that held her to the chair. Creedy laughed, and nodded to Wilkinson. Suddenly her head was submerged in the bowl in front of her. Dimly she heard the cries of her friends, but soon she was concentrating on fainting. She had learned this trick from the very first day. If she fainted, she would go back to her cell, and would not be put through any torture that day. But the guards had learned her tricks, and so they knew just when to pull her out. She felt like a duck, bobbing in and out of the water.

By the time she was pulled out, her lungs felt like bursting, and the people above her were screaming in protest. She was losing it, she could tell. The combined stresses on her body, lack of food, abuse and expurgation were draining what little energy she had. For the fist time in her life, she wanted to die. It was pitiful thought that her life should end in this awful way, being shot at dawn. It was the kind of thing that happened to criminals, not 15 year old girls, with the only her beliefs to live with.

It seemed like an hour, but it was only a few minutes. The continuing gasps of air, with the sweat and tears running down her face with the water. The screams of her school mates as they pleaded for the torture to stop. It was slipping, the laughter, the jeering, the screams, the water…

EV

She woke, hours later. Her head was pounding and there was a small cut above her eye that was still bleeding. She groaned.

All that she could remember was the feeling of bursting lungs. No recollection of what had happened came to her mind, but the fact that her tunic was still damp was a lasting reminder of what had happened. It was a side effect of her exposure to the drugs. She had acute memory loss. She couldn't remember a thing about her past, and things that happened to her went out of her mind. But the big things stayed. Like the fact that she was Charlotte Elizabeth Diana Finch. Like the fact that she had supported what the masked man was doing in London, and that she still did. Like the fact that she was at the school where she had spent the happiest days of her life. She knew that, on Tuesday, she was going to die in front of the school, and be thrown into one of the mass graves.

And she remembered the eyes. These eyes had captivated her, and made her go on. She would dream of those eyes now. The window showed that it was late in the night. Charlotte settled down her weary head, and slept.

EV

The guard dropped like a stone. Despite the man's lithe body, his muscle still made him a difficult man to move. But V managed to get to get the man into the corner that he wanted. He was not dead, but the chloroform was going to give him a big headache in the morning. V grinned behind the mask and moved quickly to the window. It was small. There was no way he was going to get her through there. V shook his head and looked into the tiny space.

The girl was huddled at the opposite corner of the cell. The food tray that customarily came was pushed to one side, and she was clutching her arms around herself, trying to keep out the cold. She was dressed in the thin orange tunic of a prisoner, and she certainly had the look. Emaciated and with sores covering nearly every inch of her body, it made the eyes hurt to look at her. V swallowed, and hoped that the plan the he and Evey had put together would work.

Evey was currently at the house, getting her costume together. Since she had been released from her own prison, she had proven to be a great fighter. Not as adapt with the knives as V was, she had a gun with her, and used her body more in combat. V had given her one of his costumes, including wig and mask, and she was adjusting it back at the house. Together, they looked nearly identical, except the height. They had been around London in as a pair, keeping down the crime, and making sure that they were both seen together. Their pictures had been in the paper, and the Mr Finch at the nose was working overtime trying to catch them. But he never did, and so they had taken this opportunity to come to the country, away from the bustle of London.

V pulled out a little wade of paper out of the pocket of his trousers. It was the letter, written by Valarie. The letter that had helped both V and Evey in their imprisonment. Had taught them to be strong, and to stand up to their beliefs. The letter went with them whenever on e of them went out of the safety of the Shadow Gallery. It gave them courage, and helped them in whatever task that they were going through. And now it would be given to a girl in exactly the same position that V and Evey had been. This girl needed the words of a long friend to give her strength for Tuesday, and this was it.

V slipped the little piece of paper through the window. It landed on the floor. V nodded and disappeared into the night.

EV

The cold, harsh light of the morning woke Charlotte long before the bell did. She stretched, and winced at the cramps that had formed in her muscles. Looking round the cell, her eyes lighted on a piece of paper on the floor near the window. She crawled over to it. It was made out 5 sheets of toilet paper. Unrolling it, a smaller piece of paper fell out. She picked this up and read the words upon it.

_Read the letter, and be brave, my child._

Charlotte frowned at the note, then slowly unravelled the sheets of paper. She looked at the name on the last sheet._ Valerie_. Charlotte settled herself down on the ground and read the letter.

By the end, tears were coursing themselves freely down her face. She felt like she was floating on a cloud. Valerie had been through the same things that she had been through, and had died. But for the first time since she had been taken, Charlotte felt loved.

She would face the torture that would happen during the next week. She would face the water, the beatings and the laughter. She would listen to the screams of her school mates. And then, on Tuesday, she would die with her head high. She wasn't afraid, not any more. She wouldn't beg for mercy, or cry. She would die with dignity. And Charlotte smiled to herself, and faced Wilkinson at the door, ready for the day, still with a smile on her face.

**A/N I am so sorry for making you wait. I have been snowed under with work. Next chapter: Tuesday, and the shooting. Or so we think…**


	5. Escape

**A/N Well isn't this just an action packed week. Sorry for the long update, work and all that. Here is the dreaded shoot out. Dun dun DUNNNNNN!**

**Disclaimer: Iown nothing (boo hoo!)**

Chapter 4

The sun was beating down on the courtyard, and the packed crowds stood, sweating in their clothes. The school of Queen Victoria had been in tight situations before, but this was just getting ridiculous. The men had been at the school for 8 days. At that time, they had taken the best beds, ate the food, drank their water, and forced them to watch the torture of a friend. And now they were making them do the most diabolical thing of all.

The men were guarding the sides and rear. There were also men at the front. To prevent the students from injuring themselves, running out into a path of bullets.

Jo and Zanthe looked at each other in despair. Their best friend had been there for when the times became to tough for them to handle. She was a shoulder to cry on, and could always be counted upon to produce a laugh. And now she was to die in front of them, and there was nothing that could be done to stop it. They held hands, and prayed that it would be over soon.

Suddenly the door opened, and Wilkinson stepped out. Peter Creedy had left the day before, and he had passed the job of execution over to Charlottes guard. It was a miserable sight that met his eyes. Even the teacher's eyes were red and puffy. 'Babies, the lot of them' he thought maliciously. He stated to speak.

"Fellow people. Almost 6 moths ago, a student was taken on suspicion of having connections with the terrorist know as 'Codename-V'. As she was known to have no connections, and she refused to sign a statement saying that she didn't support him. It is by law that she be executed by firing squad. And, as we are here, we might as well do it in front of you lot, so you don't do it as well." He paused and smiled evilly, showing yellow teeth.

"Bring the prisoner out." he yelled and the door opened once again.

Charlotte blinked in the bright sunlight, but stepped out with strength. Her guards did not hold her arms, and she walked alone. She was still very thin, and she still had sores covering her body, but there was a fire in her eyes that was not there before. In her right hand, she was clutching the letter from Valerie.

She walked to the empty wall facing the crowd, and stood against it, her head held high. Wilkinson came up to her, and tied her hand around her back. As he did so, he whispered in her ear, "You are going to die like a dog. You will beg for mercy, and I will enjoy every minute of it."

Charlotte had been looking over his shoulder at the crowd when he had said this. When he pulled away, she whispered back, "I'll see you in hell." He grinned and fixed a white blindfold over her eyes. The last image she saw, was the image of two identical white faces, grinning at her from the roof.

EV

V looked at Evey from the top of the roof. It had been hectic getting up there, with the guards patrolling the school, and the climb to the roof had been more difficult than he had thought. Evey had been panting heavily, and had been sick when they had got to the top. But she was fine now, and she was peering over the edge, watching the students below them. They had been waiting an hour when the girl had come out. She had obviously taken Valarie's words to heart, because she showed no fear.

V drew a slow breath and let it out in a rush. It was a difficult situation that they were in. Creedy had gone, and there was that guard about to shoot this child. And he didn't even know what they were going to do with the child when they had rescued her! It was a tricky situation, and for the fist time, V questioned what they were doing.

People died every day as a result of the government. Why were they bothering to rescue one little girl?

Suddenly the guard was speaking again. He pulled himself back to the present and concentrated on getting up with the minimum of effort. Evey was to remain hidden, so as to give the most surprise. She had the gun in the back of her belt. The knives were merely for show.

Evey looked up at V and nodded her head slowly. She got up and slid down the drainpipe down to the ground and, moving as softly as a shadow, ran to the back of the crowd. Mean while, V pulled a knife out of his belt and started rotating it in his fingers, waiting for the perfect moment to plunge it into the guards back.

EV

Charlotte could only use her ears to hear know what was going on, but even she didn't need to know that she was going mad. She had seen V on the roof, and not only V, but _another_ sitting beside him. And now she realised, mad people aren't afraid to die. She wasn't afraid, and so she was mad.

The guard was speaking to the crowd, but she wasn't listening. Fear had begun to settle in her stomach, like a lead weight. She didn't want to die, she was too young. She started to shiver, but the people around her put it down to cold. They laughed at her, and threw insults at her.

Suddenly she heard a "Ready!" and knew that in a few minutes, her life was going to end. Her school was crying in fear, begging them to release her. Tears welled up in her eyes and fell down, stopping at the cloth, so that wet stains were seen forming over her eyes.

"Aim!" yelled Wilkinson, and the sound of muskets being put to the men's shoulders stung her ears. She concentrated on the eyes that she had seen. She wanted to remember them, the kindness that was in them, and the fire.

"Fi-." Suddenly he was stopped short. There was a gasp from the crowd, and the sound of turning. Men were shouting everywhere, and the crack of the muskets was heard. Running, running, everywhere there was the sound of running. She shouted to be saved, confused, and lost in the sea of people. She couldn't take the blindfold off; her hands were bound behind her back. She struggled to move, but her legs seemed paralysed to the ground. 'Oh, God, I'm going to die.' went through her mind like a siren.

Then there were hands on her wrists. Soft ones, with a gentle touch to her raw skin. The ropes were cut free. Then the hands were pulling her blindfold from her eyes. She blinked, and gasped at the grinning face above her. The man put his finger to his lips, and took her hand. He pulled her to his right side and wrapped his arm around her, holding her to himself. His left hand pulled a dagger out of his belt and plunged it into the neck of the man running to get her. She screamed and clutched the waist of V closer, like a Koala. He then realised that it was getting more difficult to fight with her clinging onto him like that. He detangled her hands from his waist and pushed her to the side.

Her school mates her running everywhere. Men were running everywhere, and she was in the middle of it. She was scared, and she was cold. She clutched herself, and stared after the man in black, with his daggers. She ducked and turned, avoiding the men as they raced to him. V twisted and turned like a snake. Suddenly she saw a man run up behind him, gun raised. She picked up a knife and threw it into his back. The man thudded down on the ground and V turned and looked at her. She raised her eyebrow and ran to him. He picked her up like a little girl, running like a maniac to the front, motoring down whoever was in his path.

He ran and he ran, twisting, ducking in between the men like a snake. The girl was whimpering in his chest, and she was clutching him with an iron-grip. Evey had to have the car ready that was what she went out for. They had packed everything and it was waiting at the front of the school. Evey would be at the wheel, ready to drive back down to London.

He reached the front of the school faster than he had imagined. The girl was still hung onto his shirt like a limpet. Evey was in the front, her mask off, the hands clutching the wheel and her foot revving up the gear. V reached the back of the car, opened the door and prised the girl's fingers off of his shirt. The girl was not crying, but tears were leaking out of her eyes, and she was gasping and shaking. With a sinking heart, V recognized the beginnings of shock settling into her small body. He got into the front seat, but before he could close the door, he heard a voice cry out to him.

"Wait!" V poked his head out of the car and saw that the girls in her year were running down the steps. They reached the door.

"What happened to the men? The rest of the guards?" V asked.

"The rest of the school are sorting them out. Here." The girl with the long blonde hair, Zanthe he remembered, shoved a plastic bag towards him. V opened it and found clothes, books. On top of the entire jumble there was a small, grey stuffed rabbit.

"Here, comfort." explained the other, the brown haired girl. On an impulse, he handed the rabbit to the back seat. The girl reached out and took the rabbit, calming a little. Her whimpers started to cease, but she was still in shock, the shivering shaking her small body. V turned back to the girls.

"Please bring her back to see us." the brown haired girl whispered. "We want to see her again."

"I can't make any promises, but I will try." V promised. He put his head back in and closed the door. Evey stepped on the peddles and the car zoomed off. V looked in the rear-view mirror and saw the girls fighting the rest of the men. 'I will promise,' V thought, 'you will see her again.'

EV

"Pull over Evey." V asked as they neared the A1 to London. Evey pulled over to a lay-by and V got out of the car. He got into the back seat with the girl and shut the door. Evey looked over her shoulder and nodded, understanding. She started to drive again.

V shuffled closer to the girl. She was still curled up into a little ball; the rabbit nestled in her arms. Her large green eyes looked at him from her arms, the tears still pouring there way down her face. V put his arm around her and she stiffened instantly.

"It's o.k. I won't hurt you." he whispered to her. She still didn't relax, so he stroked her arm. This was a technique that he used to calm Evey down when she was stressed. It obviously did not have that effect with the girl.

She launched herself across the car, the rabbit forgotten. Her eyes where huge and terrified, and she was trembling. But V was not looking at her face. As she had moved, he had caught a sight that had made him physically sick. On the inside of her thighs was blood. 'Her virgin blood' he realised. She had been raped, and by the looks of it, more than once.

V moved back to the girl. He kept his hands to the sides of the car and he moved slowly, so as not to provoke her.

"Keep away from me!" the girl yelled, and she tried to back away from him. "You're like the rest of them, the sods! I hate you!" Luckily the window was closed, or she would have fallen out. V reached the girl and forcibly pulled her into his lap. She was still screaming abuse and waving her fists about, but her words were indistinguishable through her crying. She allowed herself to be pulled onto his lap and her tears slowly dried up. V rocked her slowly.

"They came for me after the first 2 months." she said after about 5 minutes. Evey looked back for a brief moment before turning back to the road and negotiating her way around the traffic. V looked down at the girl and waited. She seemed to be steeling herself to tell him.

"I thought it was going to be another torture session, you know, with the water, or the brands. But they took me to a different room. I had a blindfold on, but this was longer, the distance I mean. They took my blindfold off, and pushed me into this room.

"It was _beautiful_. The room, it had a long bed, with drapes, and big pillows, and pure white sheets. I just stood there, looking at this room, and the door opened. I looked around, and there was Wilkinson, in this silk bathrobe. I knew then that there was something wrong.

"He moved to me, and I moved back, but I moved back to far, and I fell onto the bed. He looked at me and laughed and said, "You got the idea quickly." The he took of the bath robe and climbed on the bed to me. I tried to get to the opposite side of the bed, but he grabbed my leg and dragged to him.

"I…I," she gulped and started again, breathing in short, shallow gasps. "I…couldn't help it, but I looked down at him. He…he was_ huge_! God, it was so big! I wanted to get out, but I couldn't. He took off my shift, and he made me kneel, and he…he… He made me…"

"Evey, pull over _now_!" V yelled urgently as the girl turned green and started to wretch. Evey moved the car to a lay-by. V opened the door and supported the girl as she crawled out and was violently sick in the hedge. V rubbed her back and murmured encouragements as she was sick over and over again.

Eventually the girl hung limply in V's arms and he got back in the car, wiping the girls mouth with the edge of his cape. Evey handed the girl the water bottle and she took a long drink. Evey started the car and the girl went on with her story.

"It was horrible. After he made me do that he dragged me back onto the bed and he raped me. I could hear the men laughing and his panting, and I was just crying. I had imagined it to be special, with the man I loved, not with a great brute. After it all, I was taken back to my cell. I was handed back my shift, and was just left there. I just cried. I was in so much pain, I couldn't even get dressed. I had no food for 3 days. I was starving." She stopped and looked at V. "Please don't hurt me. I don't want to die."

"Your in safe hands. We won't hurt you." V assured her. The girl nodded and sunk into his embrace. Her breathing became slower and more regular, till eventually V thought she was asleep. He was just about to settle down himself when he heard a small voice.

"V?"

"Hhhmmm?" V answered.

"My name is Charlotte. Charlotte Anne Margaret Finch. You can call me Lotte." The Charlotte went to sleep. V looked over out of the window and thought. This girl was desperate. She needed a home. A place to keep her out of the cold. And she could help. With Evey pregnant, he needed another assistant. And she was perfect. V stroked her bald head and composed himself for sleep.

"Good-night, Little Lotte."

**A/N Right, I know that it has taken me extremely long to update. Please forgive me. The sex scene was extremely difficult to write, so if it offends people, sorry. As always, please review! And don't worry, I will update more quickly. **


	6. I am so sorry

A/N Ok I know you will hate me for this, but I have to give up this story for a bit. I have massive writers block and it is driving me crazy. Please forgive me. I will be taking it up again when my muse returns, but until then, bear with me here.

Thank you for all of my reviews and keep writing.

Yours truly, Marie Phantom


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